The Darkness Within
by ryudaishiki
Summary: This story starts just before the Buu Saga begins in DBZ, and will give a different take on the whole of it. It will mostly encompass Piccolo and Gohan, though every character will have turn. Many elements and complex relationships will be addressed throughout. If are adverse to male/male, male/hermaphrodite relations; I strongly advise you to stay away from this fan fiction.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Dragon Ball/Z/GT and all related characters and materials belong to Toriyama Sensei and respective owners. All other portions of this fan fiction belong to me. I receive no monetary profit from it. Reader's Discretion is advised. **

Ch. 1

_First Drop_

Gohan tossed and turned harshly in his bed; sweat poring profusely down his neck and back. Try as he might, he couldn't shake it. Just exactly what was happening to him?! Fed up with the losing battle of striving to slumber, he threw his sodden covers back, hopped out of bed and got dressed in his favorite loose-fitting violet gi. Piccolo had given it to him for his birthday that year since he had grown out of his others. He always held anything Piccolo gave him with the highest esteem. If only he could . . .

Though he yearned for a long shower and then bath, he did not wish to disturb is mother. His younger brother Goten of almost seven could easily sleep through a hurricane, but his mother hadn't sleep very soundly since Tousan had left them all for Other World years ago.

Carefully opening his bedroom window, Gohan eased out into the crisp night air. Oh! How much better it felt to fly through the freedom of night! It seemed to caress him perfectly with its immaculate velvet touch, which was just what he needed then. He allowed himself to sweep through, around and above the clouds leisurely for what seemed hours; every moment relaxing and freeing him in a way words would be inadequate to convey.

But his thoughts and persistent urges started up again. No matter how good he could make himself feel for a short while, he was easily robbed of it as his mind and body would not allow him to forget the depth of his angst. For months he had been having vivid thoughts, feelings and dreams—when he could actually find sleep—of blood and power and . . . _Piccolo_. As an erudite scholar, he had more than a good idea on what his body had already gone and was still going through as it matured . . . but only his human side. He was sixteen years old as an earthling, but what did that say for his saiyajin side? Masturbation was something in the beginning he had told himself he didn't need to revert to—as a trained and adept warrior he should have more control—but as the urges mounted to the point that he had almost attacked his little brother, he began to masturbate regularly. Though, that only seemed to barely hold him at bay. He needed something more and soon. And though he yearned for him greatly, he was too afraid of losing the deep friendship he had earned with his sensei,_ Piccolo._ Vegeta had only laughed at and turned away from him. Jerk. He hadn't even asked for his help, but Vegeta's keen saiyajin nose had obviously caught his predicament the times he picked his younger brother up from playing with Trunks.

His urges were surely evolving into real pain, but he could not bear the thought of using or losing Piccolo. Tears began to stream down his face then; his flight slowing as sorrow began to encompass his being. What should he do? What could he?

In that sudden instant, immense pain shot from Gohan's neck, to his head and throughout every vertebrae of his spine. He wanted so much to fight, to call out, but found his body was no longer under his control as he spun helplessly in the sky. His breath began to oddly still; his vision fading to darkness as his consciousness painfully ebbed away from him.

* * *

Gohan's weary body began to stir under sterile white sheets; his consciousness drearily returning to him. His eyes felt heavier than ten-ton weights, but he needed to be sure his nose wasn't fooling him, opening them slowly. Was he really in one of Bulma's labs? And what was all that stink? Yuck! His only solace was the pure, heavenly scent of _Piccolo_. Just what was going on?

Gohan attempted to speak then; finding his throat too dry to do so.

"Here," Piccolo's masterful voiced offered. "Drink this," he said, tipping a straw in a glass of spring water to Gohan's lips. After taking a few swallows, Gohan tried to speak again.

"What's going on, Piccolo-san?" Gohan asked earnestly, very anxious to find out why he was tied up securely in the ki-suppressing cuffs to a heavily reinforced bed he was certain Bulma had created.

Piccolo observed him seriously a moment. That was exactly what he wanted to know. He knew Gohan was intelligent, powerful and wise beyond his years. Never in his life would he have thought the kid possible of such an act, but all the evidence pointed to otherwise.

"How are you feeling?" Piccolo tried to divert the question with another. This only peeved and upset Gohan all the more.

"I'm feeling pretty tired and anxious. You've never lied to me Piccolo. What is going on? Why am I chained up like this with an IV in my arm? Why can I smell the anger, regret and fear your face would never divulge from you for me?!" Gohan blurted out angrily.

Piccolo averted his eyes. He hated the saiyajin sense of smell. While they could _never_ break into his mind for his thoughts, he could never hide what he was really _feeling_ from them. He didn't know what to say to Gohan. Both the turquoise-haired woman and the haughty Saiyajin no Ouji had warned him to be careful of his words; hounding him over and over that Gohan was in a "delicate state." Neither had found any abnormalities in his blood or tissues. All that had seemed somewhat strange was the fact that he was literally starving and his tail had regrown. But the more Gohan's weary, bloodshot eyes bore into him, the more he felt he ought to just tell him the truth.

"You've been here for just over a day. You fell unconscious after going too long without proper nourishment. Your younger brother came to find me after waking up to both you and your mother unconscious; you from lack of nutrients and your mother from fainting after finally finding you near death outside your house. You've given them both quite a scare . . . Just why would you do such a thing Gohan? Why would you do that to them? Your mother said you had been gone for three weeks without a word before finding you emaciated as you are now. I do not understand."

Gohan took the moment to gaze down at himself. Sure enough, he had lost most of the thickened muscle that came naturally from being half-saiyajin. He was at least six dress sizes thinner; his skin taut, thin and deathly pale. He honestly couldn't recognize himself and was afraid to look in a mirror at his face. What in the blazes was happening?! He could only recall going out for a night flight in an attempt to ease his saiyajin urges . . . But for the life of him, he could not recall just how that flight had ended. Genuine fear began to permeate his being then. He had never had lost time before. His saiyajin urges were getting stronger, but he was always able to remember everything and regain control.

"Pic . . . I don't remember any of it," Gohan's unsure voice trembled. "The last thing I can recall is taking a leisure flight at night because I couldn't sleep. I can't remember what happened after. Please believe me, Piccolo. I would never do what all of you think I have . . . I don't know how I have lost time. It's never happened before," his voice whimpered.

Piccolo peered deeply into Gohan's haunted eyes. The kid wasn't lying. That made him worry all the more. Had he been attacked, and if so, by whom or what? The kid was the strongest being on the planet. What could have possibly subdued him, and without giving off a ki signature or some sort of disruptive sign? Neither he nor Dende had sensed any disturbances. He didn't like at all where it was heading, but could handle the thought of them having another enemy to deal with over that of Gohan attempting suicide or losing his mind. An enemy they had the chance of defeating. But Gohan being . . . No, it just couldn't be that. He would not believe it.

"Vegeta couldn't smell anyone on you apart from you brother and mother . . ."

"I'm not crazy!" Gohan blurted out, his face twisting in a maniacal expression betraying his words. "Of all people, Pic . . . You know me better than anyone . . . Please help me find what really happened. I'm worried for the earth, for my family—"

Gohan's voice broke then, and Piccolo found he couldn't deny the kid anymore. Unlocking the ki-suppressing cuffs—as he had slyly observed Bulma do before—he set Gohan free. He was surprised when the kid . . . young man immediately enveloped him in his arms. He was still so strong even though he appeared so emaciated. That was a relief. He had truly been worried for Gohan. Dende hadn't been able to help him and there were no sensu available currently available. But his moment of relief was swiftly cut short as Gohan's lips found his neck; elongated fangs burying themselves deeply into his deep green flesh. He found he could not budge in Gohan's fierce embrace; his mystical violet blood flowing from him to Gohan as he drank it up heartily.

Piccolo wanted to fight, yell, move, but found his body no longer under his control. He couldn't even stifle his grunt as Gohan squeezed evermore tightly. His vision swirled with colors as Gohan deepened the deadly kiss; tearing further into Piccolo's flesh. Piccolo had been too caught up in Gohan's fierce ministrations to be aware of the sudden change in location. They were no longer at Capsule Corp but somewhere dark, solitary and covered.

Piccolo strove with all his will and meditative skill to free himself from Gohan's literally breathtaking embrace, the strange hold on his mind, but it only made Gohan grasp him tighter. He had wanted so much to help the kid, but apparently he had chosen wrong. And as darkness began to devour his vision, he still had only one wish—to help the only person he had ever grown close enough to to not only care for but love, _Gohan_.

**TBC . . .**


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thank you so much for your honest and elaborate review Volcanic. I look forward to more in the future and will do my best to supply prose worthy of it as I continue this journey. I hope for this to be a long, action and emotion-filled story but can make no promises. Thank you to all that have taken an interest. I will update as I can. Please keep in mind that reader's discretion is advised throughout this story. Thanks again for reading and enjoy.

Ch. 2

_Second Drip_

Vegeta swiftly entered the empty lab too late. He should have known better than to leave the green man alone with the kid; he was too close to him. And being that he could no longer sense their presence on Earth, there was no way reach them immediately. Kuso! He had to do the one thing he utterly loathed doing—ask for help.

Taking off for Kami's Lookout, Vegeta flew swiftly to reach Dende and see if he had any answers. Though he hated to ever admit it, he _did _care. He had finally settled down on Earth and even went as far as to call it his home. He even listened to the turquoise-haired onna's ridiculous meanderings every now and then, and attempted to be less hostile toward his young son when training him. Whether he liked it or not, he did care, so whatever happened to Kakarotto's offspring and the green man mattered to him. He could only hope Dende had more answers than he had had when Gohan was first found. For if Gohan was truly losing it, none of them were safe.

* * *

When Gohan finally returned to full consciousness, Piccolo lay unmoving in a limp heap. Peering down at Piccolo's broken and bloody body, something inside Gohan shattered; thoroughly eliminating all rational thought, his hospital gown searing to his flesh as sparks began to fly. It was just the opening a certain someone had been waiting for—the chance to make the earth's strongest _his_.

Easily bringing Gohan's still painfully unaware, howling and transforming body close to his own, the stranger sunk his long eyeteeth into the flesh of Gohan's neck; none of the fierce power fluctuations from a warped Super Saiyajin transformation having the slightest effect on him. Every drop of Gohan's blood proved to be just as exquisite as the first time he'd tasted him; his unique mix of blood only rivaled by that of the Namekseijin. Yes, they would _both_ become _his_.

Easily hoisting both unconscious bodies over his shoulders, the slight, 270cm tall ice blue-skinned being began carrying Gohan and Piccolo further into his lair. It had only been his good fortune that Gohan had unconsciously teleported himself and Piccolo to his location while in a feral feeding frenzy; saving him the trouble.

The tall stranger smiled to himself; a nice bit of pep in his step. Everything was falling nicely into place.

* * *

Upon awaking, Piccolo grimaced. He was in pain and weary from blood loss, but he knew he needed to survey the new surroundings his ears made him aware of. His eyes immediately fell to Gohan's naked and supine form upon the large black-clad futon. His heart felt as if it were in a vise then, as he could sense neither ki nor life from Gohan whatsoever. Piccolo had to force himself to maintain focus. They were in enemy's territory. He could not afford to succumb to his own emotions; knowing their foe would surely use any weakness against them.

Although focus was difficult, Piccolo managed to take in the rest of the room. It appeared to be a large well-enforced box; the material sound of which was foreign to his keen ears. There were no windows or doors, and the walls were somber grey in hue, ceiling and floor included. His ears could easily detect the soft and constant flow of air in and out of the room; though he couldn't tell just how. He could not detect any holes, openings or passages. And as he reached out with his telekinesis for further deduction, he got quite a shock throughout his head and spine. It was the perfect prison; nothing in or out except what their captor allowed.

After the ache in his head subsided some, Piccolo's eyes scoped the room once more. Besides the futon, the only other furniture in the room was a medium-sized, circular wooden table. Atop it was a large translucent tear-shaped decanter of pure spring water, a hand-sized glowing orb and a piece of parchment. The orb illuminated the room just enough without being overpowering. Written on the parchment in old blood was a terse and eerie message: _Drink all the water. You will need your strength. _

Piccolo growled to himself then. He was secured to the wall nude, his beloved student's body was painfully haunting him from across the room, and they were trapped by an unknown enemy. Had he missed anything?!

After several attempts, Piccolo found the tight material which encased his neck, wrists and ankles impervious. There were no holes or gears with which to work or manipulate, and the dark material was securely fitted to his frame; even digging into his flesh with hooked barbs. The only way out of the cuffs would be quite painful; obviously as their captor had intended. After stretching the flesh of his neck, arms and legs just enough, Piccolo used what little strength he had left to sever his head, hands and feet simultaneously with telekinesis. His ki was much too low for otherwise. His body and its parts fell immediately to the cold floor; his energy waning. He groaned in pain as all his limbs seemed to take an eternity to reconnect.

It took a few moments, but Piccolo finally found the strength to stand. Walking over to the table, Piccolo peered hard into the decanter of water. He absolutely loathed having to play by an enemy's rules but refused to give up. Lifting the spout of the decanter to his lips, he downed all 7 liters of it. Without waiting for all his strength to return, he went directly to Gohan.

Gazing down at Gohan's body, Piccolo felt his heart clench. Gohan's body wasn't nearly as gaunt as it had been. In fact, he appeared as if he were merely sleeping; except for his lack of breath. Try as Piccolo might, he could not sense life from him. Pain pervaded his being as he moved to cover Gohan's body with the futon's somber black sheets; far from ready for the sudden springing up of Gohan's form.

Slight relief did fill Piccolo at the quaint puncture into the flesh of his neck and the harsh crushing of his body. For underneath all the chaos, he could finally sense the life and presence of his Gohan once more; the resonance of Gohan's soul. He was still in there. His mind was just a horribly muddled mess for multiple reasons. And though Piccolo gave his all to breach the chaos and pain to reach Gohan's consciousness through telepathy, a masterful force powerfully blocked each and every attempt.

"Ahh! Gohan, you must stop!" Piccolo shouted. The protective armor that covered certain portions of his body also protected his genitalia. Gohan had his arms and legs harshly secured; pushing hard to breach the most intimate place of his flesh. "GOHAN! COME BACK TO ME NOW! . . . _Please_."

Never before had Piccolo's voice ever held such immense emotion. Even with his great power, his arms were being crushed. Piccolo knew he had to stop it; not for his own sake but for that of his beloved student. He knew once Gohan regained full awareness he would _never_ forgive himself.

Although Piccolo's arms and legs had been had been all but shattered, Piccolo's neck and jaw were still strong. Stretching and biting deeply into the juncture of Gohan's neck and shoulder, Piccolo kept fighting to get through to him. Gohan began hissing fiercely; shaking off and tossing Piccolo across the room hard. Piccolo had no time to heal his injuries as Gohan was easily back on him on all fours and baring his much longer fangs in frenzied fury; his long tail flicking harshly back and forth in his feral angst. Piccolo was at a loss, but despite the harsh obstacles kept fighting with his mind to reach Gohan.

As Gohan's abysmal eyes peered down at Piccolo, they seemed to pause a moment. Every element that made him up was fighting for control within, but his heart was desperately fighting to return balance. "That's it Gohan. You can do it. Come back," whispered Piccolo in great earnest. Gohan bent down to sniff Piccolo more deeply. After a few moments, Piccolo breathed in slight relief. He could feel Gohan's consciousness returning to the forefront of his mind.

"P-Piccolo? Wait . . . NO!"

"Calm yourself Gohan. We are both alright. Compose yourself."

"But I . . ."

"Gohan, you've only taken some of my blood, and everything else could have occurred in battle. It's alright . . ."

"How is it alright?! Meditation doesn't work . . . And this . . . it's _so_ strong now. You just don't know. Even now I'm fighting . . . to remain," Gohan's voice quivered with sorrow and self-loathe.

Piccolo was certain as he gazed into Gohan's haunted eyes that there was no other way. Somehow Gohan had to have some relief for them to even begin to formulate a plan with which to escape their current imprisonment. Having healed his arms and legs, Piccolo firmly grasped the edges of Gohan's face with his hands; tears already forming in his eyes.

"You are my student, comrade and dearest friend. You have grown into a phenomenal warrior with a brilliant mind and an even more excellent heart. You can do anything; only getting better as time goes on. I know this because you are the young man that I so greatly love, Gohan."

Piccolo didn't give Gohan time to react, stealing his lips with his own. He didn't want Gohan to hold the burden of the act. Gohan immediately began plundering his mouth; his tongue refusing to leave a surface untouched.

_Gohan, maintain control. Please do not lose yourself in the darkness. I understand how easy it is to, but I also know you are so much more than you ever give yourself credit for. _

Piccolo pored his telepathy on as thickly as he could. They would be back at square one if Gohan lost it again. Gohan pulled away from the fervent kiss.

"I don't know if I can, Pic," panted Gohan, his fists opening and clenching repetitively.

"You can . . . _my Gohan_," said Piccolo sincerely.

Lifting Piccolo into his arms, Gohan swiftly moved them both back to the futon. Control was difficult, but he managed to maintain just enough. Pink dueled violet for dominance as their mouths connected once more. Gohan pulled away to kiss and lick up and down the unarmored sections of Piccolo's neck and torso. Piccolo shivered as he experienced an array of new and powerful sensations; striving within himself to maintain calm as well. So much had happened, so fast; all he could do was breath.

There were intervals where Gohan had to pull away a moment to maintain control, but he managed. He found he did not need to fuss with the armor covering Piccolo's intimate parts; it opening on its own with Piccolo's arousal.

"Are you sure, Pic?" asked Gohan earnestly, it taking all his will to hold back.

"Yes," whispered Piccolo in a panting breath, feeling his own novel degree of need then.

Their bodies connected as one then; a deep and powerful rhythm swiftly built and kept for what seemed hours. Tears and sweat thick with all they'd endured physically and mentally to reach that point poured down their bodies with other fluids; making sodden the futon below them. In one last round of passion, they called out each other's names; their zeniths undulating through them in waves.

"_Piccolo!"_

_"Gohan!" _

They lay in the afterglow for what seemed eons before Piccolo spoke what was necessary. "Do you think you can use shunkan idou to get us out of here?"

Gohan took a few moments to answer. For so long he had yearned to share _all_ of himself with Piccolo. How had it turned out so wrong?! Piccolo ended up sacrificing himself, _again_. How could he be so. . .

"Gohan. That wasn't a sacrifice. It was a promise. We are going to get out of here, find and defeat our enemy, and go home—_together_. . . Your feelings are not unrequited. I have kept my distance so as not to burden you. You have been so distant whenever I come around. I am glad to find out it is the opposite of what I had thought," confessed Piccolo in voice much softer than his usual.

"Really? You're not just . . ."

"Have I ever lied to you? Why would I?"

Gohan grasped onto Piccolo tightly then. He did feel a good deal better physically. His urges were still there and great but dampened enough that he didn't feel so _forlorn_. But having sated some of his urges somewhat, he could feel that something was horribly different and wrong with his body. Something flowing within it was surely foreign, and never had his senses been so overwhelming before. Their enemy had done something to him; something he couldn't remember and that changed the being he once was. It also weighed heavily on him that he had probably passed it on to his beloved. He wasn't sure how things would ever be alright again but relished the warmth and love of Piccolo's accepting arms.

"No you haven't Piccolo, and I love you for it and so much more. I will try to use shunkan idou in a few; I've seen Tousan do it enough times. I will probably need your help though. . . Please, let me have this for now."

No more words were necessary. Piccolo held onto Gohan more firmly; bringing him closer to his person. They had both lost something profound in a highly unfavorable way, but they had also gained something. Though Piccolo was unfamiliar with certain aspects of the act, the severity of it was not lost to him.

Though they fought it, a thickened slumber overtook them then; courtesy of their captor.

Things hadn't gone exactly according to his plan, but there was still much future promise. He relished the strength and bonds his of two captives'. They were far more decent prey than he had come across in a long time. He wouldn't take a moment for granted. Their resilience would only heighten his pleasure and fun. For eventually, they _would_ _be his _in every way.

* * *

There was an eerie quiet as Vegeta touched down on Kami's Lookout. Though he would never admit it, a slight chill did creep up his spine.

"Dende!" he called out, completely unamused by the lack of answer after minutes had passed. "Dende! I know you are here! You had better show your little green a-"

"Whoa, Vegeta. Is that any way to speak to a god?" quipped Dende in a tone uncharacteristically self-assured.

"Dende?" Vegeta gazed upon the Earth's Guardian a bit miffed. He had never witnessed him with such a demeanor, and none of his senses could detect any irregularities. At that point, he had had enough surprises for one day. The little green man had better just be attempting some odd round of humor.

"That's my name Vegeta. Don't wear it out." Vegeta growled at that; grinding his teeth in his impatience. "Is there something you need Vegeta?"

"Actually, there is. And if you were doing your job, you'd know exactly what."

"Really? Last I checked, Gohan was in your care when his and Piccolo's ki signatures suddenly vanished from the earth. If I had anything else to go on, I would have informed you telepathically," answered Dende with a smirk, leisurely twisting his staff as if bored.

Vegeta growled again. The little green man was pushing it. He really abhorred having his own mannerisms thrown back at him, and the last thing the earth needed was a cheeky Guardian. But before Vegeta could launch a heated tirade, Dende spoke up again.

"I am sorry, Vegeta. No one in Other World seems to know what happened to them either; nor have I sensed any disturbances on or around Earth. I'll be sure to inform you once I know of otherwise," said Dende, more seriously.

"Whatever," grumbled Vegeta, more than ready to leave. Little did he suspect what was coming next.

Strangely faster than Vegeta could counter, Mister Popo came up from behind and locked his arms and legs in a secure hold; sinking his new fangs into his back. Dende was on him instantly; fiercely sinking much longer eyeteeth than he once had into Vegeta's open throat. Vegeta roared then; his sentou ryoku swiftly rising with his Super Saiyajin transformation. He struggled and wrenched in every way he could in their strangely overpowering grasp but was powerless in their hold; his transformation swiftly fading, even flight impossible. He could not believe what was happening!

Feeling faint before his world completely faded, Vegeta had one last clear thought: _I'm sorry Trunks, Bulma . . . forgive me . . ._

**TBC . . .**


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thank you **Dragon96** for the nice review! I am glad you are enjoying the story thus far and hope to hear more from you in the future. Thank you to all that have taken an interest. I will continue to hopefully write interesting and emotion-filled prose while increasing my skills as a writer. There is a lot more to this story. It will just take time to write, edit and publish. Thanks again everyone and enjoy.

Ch. 3

_Just a Dream Before the Tournament?_

Long elegant ice-blue fingers glided through rich ebony locks with a newfound care; his other hand gently massaging the immaculate green antennae of his other _chosen_. No. It wasn't quite yet time to _open_ their eyes. Too many times he would allow his own appetite to dictate his moves, jumping the gun, but he was working on it. Besides, they were already _his_ in a sense that could never be relinquished. He would allow them some time with one another. Otherwise the game would be over too easily, just as with so many worlds before. And as an avid lover of martial arts, he couldn't wait to see what they would bring to the Tenkaichi Budoukai; especially with the other visitors that had decided to set on Earth for a while. The only thing better than a good fight was . . . He chuckled lightly to himself then. That would come in time.

Placing a hand on each of their foreheads, the tall stranger altered some recent memories of Gohan and Piccolo; _his chosen_. He could sense it better then; they had such greater potential than that of mere prey, so although he was impatient, he had to allow more time to make it all worthwhile. He did not just ache for them; the longer he spent in their presence, he yearned for them. He needed for them to truly be his, so things had to be reworked much differently than his usual.

Once he was done with their memories, he knew he also needed to suppress his essence within them until just the right time. He did so with a powerful psychic incantation in a calm and forceful voice and in his native tongue. "All remnants of me shall be unknown, unfound—dormant until I deem otherwise."

Moments later, Gohan, Piccolo and even Vegeta—although he was still unconscious back on Kami's Lookout—were all psychically teleported back to their respective homes; all evidence of foul play removed and forgotten. Dende and Mister Popo were also given back their will, and all who had memories of him or Gohan's night out. All that was touched or involved had their memories tweaked to suit _his_ purposes.

The time would come for them to all play again, and _he_ would relish every moment even more for having waited; just as a fine wine only gets finer in time.

* * *

Vegeta sprung up in a cold sweat; clutching his neck anxiously. What on Earth?! He had never dreamt before and not remembered. His dreams were almost always painfully vivid and clear. But for the life of him, that time he could not. He was not at all pleased.

". . . Vegeta, Vegeta!"

"What onna?!"

"Are you alright? The last time I saw you in bed past the morning was the first two years after Goku —"

"Do not mention that name in my presence."

"Anyway, I just wanted to know that you were alright," expressed Bulma with shimmering eyes striving not to break down.

Vegeta rubbed his head; truly unsure of what day it was. No matter, he would find out. When he finally gazed upon her eyes, he did feel bad. He hadn't meant...

"I'm fine Bulma. I just have a lot more training to do," he answered, gingerly running a hand through her exquisite jewel-colored locks. He'd wished she hadn't cut it—loving it much longer, never admitting aloud that he enjoyed playing with it in their quiet moments. She was a lot more sensitive about certain things than she would ever admit; something they had in common, so he remained quiet about it.

Bulma decided to say nothing more; simply embracing her prince lovingly and pushing him back down onto the bed while she had some free time away from work. She knew he was a complex soul even before she'd fallen in love with him. She had chosen to be there for him regardless. She was his and he was hers.

Vegeta allowed her to remove his pajamas; relishing each delicious sweep of her tongue as it vivaciously plundered every surface inside his mouth. Bulma enjoyed power, control just as much he; perhaps more. So more often than not, he would allow her the reins in their lovemaking. He hadn't cared what she wanted their first time; only taking it roughly because she wouldn't stop offering. But having lived with her and the child they had produced, he found he cared a lot more than he had ever wanted to. Because to care meant risk, and risk meant possible defeat, suffering, loss—_weakness_. He had already had more than enough for one lifetime. But the more time he shared with them—_his family_, still a quaint thing to him having never believed he would survive long enough to produce a decent one—the more the better parts of his soul would not allow him to remain completely blind to what _truly mattered_ in the universe. Some risks were worth so much more than words could ever possibly convey.

As Bulma set her immaculate feminine curves atop his muscular form, Vegeta let out a deep sigh; the wet warmth of her surrounding him somehow more exquisite than he could recall. As she began to ride him, he found himself in a euphoria he wished wouldn't end anytime soon. For once, he allowed himself to become fully immersed in the moment; unaware of the purr that began emanating from him or his newly grown tail that had sprung up and coiled around her arm. Yes, he was in heaven; one that always seemed to end much too soon despite his efforts. He bit his lip as he felt the undulations of Bulma's climax begin to trigger his own. Sparks jumped off the walls as waves of pleasure pervaded the two of them.

A few moments in the afterglow was afforded before Bulma ended the silence. "Vegeta, I didn't know you could purr."

"Hn," he answered, feeling too good to care either way.

"And when did your tail grow back? I bet you're glad for it!" she emitted enthused but lax, still running her fingers in circles on his chest.

Vegeta had been unaware of it, and was quite incredulous of her words. Attempting to move a tail that hadn't been there for years, Vegeta lightly stirred his furry appendage to and fro. Wow. It had been so long. Perhaps he his devout training was paying off in other ways. He did smile a bit at the realization. Bulma grasped his face in her hands as she would do from time to time; just peering deeply with no words. She was the only one to ever see that deeply into him and not look away in disgust. He did love her for that and so much more.

Kissing her deeply once more and pulling away to gaze into her eyes, he did his best to convey his love and appreciation for her without words. She smiled and burrowed into his strong chest once more. Together they slept a bit longer into the afternoon; both tired from different reasons. That is, until their son woke them excitedly after school.

* * *

"Nii-chan, Nii-chan! Wake up! You promised you would begin training me today so I can beat Trunks. _You promised!" _urged a highly excited little demi-saiyajin. A low growl could be heard throughout the bedroom, but it wasn't from Gohan.

The little bundle of energy ran to the other side of his brother's bed. "Piccolo-san, you promised you would train me too! We finally got Kaasan to say okay to it. Come on, get up you sleepyheads!"

A long furry appendage slipped from under the covers, grasping and lifting the little demi-saiyajin up off the ground. "Goten, we'll be down in a few. Go help Kaasan with breakfast for now. After we've all eaten and helped with chores, we'll train. Okay?"

"Okay Nii-chan," chirped Goten happily. "And, can I have a tail too?"

"You weren't born with one, so you probably won't ever grow one. But that's alright. You are wonderful just the way you are," answered Gohan sincerely, gently putting his younger brother down.

"Okay. Can I touch it?" asked Goten, his hands already generously petting Gohan's tail. Even Piccolo couldn't help but grin at Gohan's arched back and heavily blushed face. He knew he had to help his mate out.

"Goten, go help your mother now. I am counting on you," commanded Piccolo strongly.

"Yes Sir," answered Goten, incorrectly saluting like he'd seen on TV, letting go of his brother's tail and rushing out of the room.

"My . . . Hero . . .," harshly panted Gohan, still trying to compose himself after his brother's innocent fondling.

"You should have much better control than that. I know I've taught you better," quipped Piccolo, sporting a victory smirk. Gohan stuck his tongue out in feigned indignation; only to have it trapped as Piccolo locked his lips with his own.

When they finally pulled away for breath, Piccolo became pensive. "Pic, is everything alright?" Gohan asked softly; fear that his beloved regretted finally having _been_ _together_.

"I am fine Gohan . . . I just feel as if I am forgetting something very important," answered Piccolo, lightly rubbing his chin in thought.

"You don't regret . . ."

"Never, Gohan . . . You are my heart, my world. I never would have thought that such a thing would have been possible in my life, but if there has ever been one to make me believe in miracles, it's you. I would only have regretted it if you did."

"I love you so much Piccolo," expressed Gohan strongly, nuzzling into Piccolo's chest, his tail wrapping around the both of them.

"And I you Gohan; never think otherwise."

After a long intimate moment, they got up, washed and got dressed. It was time to start a new day.

* * *

Goten started getting frustrated the longer he sparred with his brother and Piccolo. Even Kaasan had given him a better match that one day . . . though, she never did train him again after it. He still didn't know why she had been so afraid. But more importantly, he needed to get stronger. Once they took to the sky, Goten growled in indignation; his sentou ryoku rising swiftly with his ire as he became Super Saiyajin.

"That's not fair! I can't fly! And why are you two holding back? How am I supposed to get stronger like that?" Goten's tiny tirade began.

Piccolo could see a lot of Goku in Goten then, and it wasn't just his appearance. The little fireball was innocent, loving, kind, easygoing, playful, energetic and yet also powerful, hungry for power, slightly arrogant and impatient; a real chip of the old block. A fire was reawakened in Piccolo then.

"You want to fly? Then you had better learn boy. Perhaps then you will be ready for a _real_ fight with us."

"But . . . you promised."

"We promised to train you in battle. Flight is extra. And as I recall, I didn't have to teach your brother that one. Once he got tired of falling, he picked it up on his own," stated Piccolo, trying to encourage him.

Goten gazed at both his brother and Piccolo with a mixture of anger and awe.

"Besides Goten, how on Earth did you learn how to become Super Saiyajin before using Bukujutsu?" inquired Gohan.

"When I was three, Kaasan used to train me every day you left for school or work . . . until the day I turned . . . Su-per Sai-ya-jin. That's what you called it, right?"

"Yes. So, what happened?"

"She seemed afraid and didn't train me anymore after that. And you've been busy with school and work so I try not to bother you. That's why I was so happy when you said you would . . ." Goten stopped, striving to force his tears not to fall.

Gohan flew down and scooped his little brother up into his arms and embraced him earnestly. He hadn't known the little tyke had been holding so much within. He felt bad that he hadn't been more observant, and could tell Piccolo felt the same as he floated silently nearby with his arms folded, allowing the brothers a moment.

"Piccolo and I will just have to make an exception this time; won't we?" he said, looking over to Piccolo.

"Hm. Yes," corroborated Piccolo.

"But . . . you did it yourself Nii-chan," sniffed Goten.

"Yeah, but Piccolo was always there, even when he didn't want to be, giving me his own flavor of pointers," Gohan said with a reminiscent grin.

"So, you will do that for me?"

"Sure kid," said Piccolo a bit softer, rubbing Goten's thick wild spikes of hair.

"Arigatou, Nii-chan, Piccolo-san!" They both melted at his innocent smile. Yep. He had them wrapped around his little finger.

For hours the three of them trained; first in manipulating ki for multiple purposes such a flight and then a nice sparring match between them.

* * *

After dinner was finished, Gohan volunteered and did the dishes. He could see just how much more the years had aged his mother than they should have. He knew in his heart it wasn't his fault, but every time he caught one of her weary sighs he felt guilty for not having destroyed Cell the first time he'd had the chance. His father just hadn't understood how much all of them still needed him when he chose to stay in Other World. And though he did everything in his power to make things easier on them all, he couldn't help but feel there was somehow more he could do. Before he could think another thought, his mother asked him to sit with her for a moment. She had already sent Piccolo to bathe and tuck in Goten so the two of them could have a moment alone.

"Gohan, I am grateful for all you've done and continue to do. . . You have grown into an excellent young man that I couldn't be prouder of. . . I-I don't want you to fill obligated to your brother and I. If you are ready to move out with Piccolo and start your own family, you have my blessing," Chi-Chi's voice trembled. She felt guilty for having placed so many heavy burdens on Gohan so young. A child should never have to perform roles designated to adults, but he had done so anyway, picking up both hers and his father's slack.

"Okaasan, do you want me to leave?" Gohan asked, incredulous.

"Oh no, Honey. You can stay as long as you want. I just thought that you and Piccolo might prefer a place of your own; where you can have your privacy and don't have to worry so much about us," she had to pause again to wipe her face. Gohan scooped his mother into his arms and hugged her lovingly, bracing his own tears.

"I am more than grateful to be your son and to live in such a wonderful, loving home. It's not trouble to be here but a blessing. Please do not ever think otherwise Kaasan."

"_Gohan . . ._" Chi-Chi began weeping in his arms.

"Do not worry Okaasan. I know the rest of Ojiichan's stash is almost gone. It couldn't be helped. His medical bills were more than hefty. We did our best to keep him here longer. . . He was able to die happy and at peace because of you Kaasan," Gohan declared, brimming tears spilling from his own eyes. "I regret nothing Kaasan. I've already gained employment as a college professor and I am going to enter and win the upcoming Tenkaichi Budoukai to make things a bit easier on us all. All that you taught me helped me excel to this point that much sooner. Thank you for being my Mother."

"No . . . Gohan, thank you for being my wonderful Son."

They embraced for a long moment before Chi-Chi was the first to pull away.

"You know I hate handouts, so I've been putting payments down on a capsule house I had Bulma build strong enough for the two of you for a while now. I'm not blind you know. It's why I wasn't surprised when you finally told me. You can take it wherever you like on Earth and—"

"So you are kicking me out?"

"No, I just understand the need to have intimate moments with your mate, and would prefer that you have them in a place your own and without your younger brother around," she said more seriously. Gohan blushed to his ears then. She was right about that.

"Here," Chi-Chi said, handing Gohan a very special capsule, alerting him once more. "Take it tonight with Piccolo and find a place you both like. It's a large model equipped with every modern convenience, so make sure you find an area with a lot of room before you open it. It's my gift to the both of you," she said sincerely, wiping one last tear away.

"Thank you so much Okaasan, thank you." Gohan kissed and hugged his mother once more before going in to see how his mate and brother were doing. "I'll visit every day, I promise."

* * *

Gohan couldn't help but smirk once he saw a more than peeved Piccolo in the tub with a laughing Goten.

"Nii-chan, Nii-chan, guess what? I can hold my breath longer than Piccolo-san!"

"You cheated and tickled m-," more slipped out than Piccolo had intended, causing him to grimace at the last moment.

"Oh, Piccolo's ticklish, is he?" asked Gohan slyly.

"Yep, I saw him smile and even got a laugh out of him," chirped Goten happily.

"Good to know," said Gohan eying Piccolo like prey, Piccolo's face deflating then before he swallowed hard. Ready to change the subject and spend the night in their new house, Gohan began. "Are you all clean Champ?"

"Yep, every piece." Goten stood up and showed himself off. Gohan was tempted to ask Piccolo the same but decided to save it for later.

"Let's get you dressed and to bed then,"

"Aww, do I haveta?"

"Yep, it's past your bedtime. And besides, I'm going to need your help tomorrow to decorate our new house."

"Y-your leaving us?" asked Goten, deflating.

"You can sense my ki right?"

"Yes," Goten sniffed.

"Then you can always call me when you need me."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

"Can't I come? _Pleeease_?"

"Kaasan needs someone strong like you to hold down the fort. Can we count on you?"

"Yes Sir," Goten saluted, his tears momentarily forgotten.

Piccolo watched the whole exchange quietly; drying himself and dressing with his technique. What was Gohan talking about? He continued to follow and watch as Gohan took care of and tucked in Goten. He gazed on amazed as Gohan began telling him a foreign story from memory alone until Goten had finally fallen asleep. He would make a good parent should they be compatible enough physically to produce offspring. He blushed violet at the thought.

"Ready to go home, Pic?"

"Isn't _this_ home?"

"My mother put a lot into giving us one of our own. We should use it in honor of her," Gohan answered, opening his hand to reveal the capsule that held their new home.

"Very well. Will they be alright though?"

"Yes. We're all a strong bunch if you haven't noticed. And if they ever need us, I can get us to them instantly."

"Okay. I'll greet your mother before I leave. Go set up the house where you like; I will be there in a few." Gohan bowed and left; saying his goodbyes to his mother before flying out the house. He couldn't help but be a little excited.

Sitting across from Chi-Chi in the living room, Piccolo began. "I know you have never particularly liked me. Thank you Chi-Chi, for accepting me into your home, into your family. Please know that I will do all in my power to keep it a happy one."

"You had better! One wrong move and I'll send you to Other World myself."

"I wouldn't have it any other way." They shared a quiet knowing gaze before Chi-Chi shooed him out of the house. Things would be alright, somehow.

* * *

After multiple rounds of earnest lovemaking, Piccolo and Gohan lay in the warmth of their own bed, in their own house; still slightly incredulous, as if it were all a dream they would have to eventually wake from. The dreary thought made them hold to each other tighter. What was wrong? They were happy together. What was missing? What were they forgetting?

Dismissing the thought for happier ones, Gohan began. "Goten was born a bit earlier than he was due to, so his birthday and Trunks' are pretty close in month. I was going to ask if we could celebrate them together. I think he'd like that."

"I'm sure the little bundle of energy would," answered Piccolo.

"Well, it's coming up pretty soon, and I was wondering if you wouldn't mind coming with us to-"

"We are mates now Gohan. You know there isn't anything I wouldn't do for you . . . even if that means enduring the wrath of certain spoiled prince for a day," said Piccolo, lifting Gohan's chin so he could peer into his magnificent black orbs.

"I know, I just don't want you to feel . . ."

Piccolo stole his lips with his own. He didn't like how Gohan always felt that things were his fault or that he was a burden; that he somehow wasn't enough. He always gave so much of himself. It would take work, but he would get him to break that habit. Gohan was so much greater than he himself ever believed, and he loved him _so_ much. He couldn't bear a universe without him; of that he was certain.

"It will turn out fine, Gohan. And we have some months to train before the Tenkaichi Budoukai in May. I'll enter as well."

"Oh. You heard me?"

_I hear more than most think. _Piccolo kept the thought to himself. He also felt bad for having distanced himself when Gohan actually needed him most. He was happy though that they were finally together.

"Yes. I wish you would have spoken to me sooner. I would have made that buffoon Satan pay what he owes you. You know he has become quite wealthy off of a fight you won."

"I know, but Kaasan wouldn't have liked it, and she would have known. Money is one of those things she doesn't joke about. That's why I couldn't decline this house. I hadn't known she was putting away for it."

"It's alright Gohan. It was one thing she could have some control of. It couldn't have been easily to always have to wait for her loved ones to return." He had been going to say more but left it at that.

"Yeah," whispered Gohan.

Gohan snuggled closer to Piccolo then and closed his eyes. Earth had been at peace for years and Eternity willing; such peace wouldn't be lost anytime soon.

It took a while but needed slumber eventually took the both of them.

* * *

Gohan gazed on relieved as he witnessed the youthful smiling faces of his younger brother with his best friend. The combined birthday party—or should he say extravaganza, Bulma always going overboard as was her way—had been going off without a hitch. There was plenty of food, games and laughter to go around. Everyone was upbeat except his mother, Piccolo and Vegeta, but he guessed that couldn't be helped. Piccolo and Vegeta would always have their ways. And even under her feigned smile, he could feel his mother's weariness, loneliness. He knew for her no other would do but his father. How he wished sometimes that day years ago would have gone differently. If only—

_Gohan? Are you alright? _

_Yeah Pic, I'm fine. I'm just thinking too much; the exact opposite of my father. Ha ha. _

_Keep in mind that Goten is a lot more observant than your father. He keeps stealing a peek over at you. He's grateful for all you do for him, but yearns for your happiness too. _

_I know Pic. Something has been off . . . I don't . . . You're right though. I need to get with the party. I know you don't need to, but will you come eat with me. I am quite famished. _

_Sure. I am sure I'll find something to suit my palate. _

He was happy Gohan couldn't see his smirk then; flying over leisurely to one of the large tables piled with every manner of food.

When Piccolo finally sat down to eat, he was relieved to see members of the Son Family already sitting and chowing down. Even Chi-Chi seemed to be enjoying the food at least. And as he sat in the seat 'saved' for him in between the two birthday boys and Gohan, it still amazed him how much even a tiny child saiyajin could pack away. It was like they had black holes for stomachs, but he was glad to see them healthy and well. He was surprised to see that even Vegeta took a seat at the table next to Bulma. It was good that he was finally coming around. While he didn't particularly care for them, he didn't mind seeing Goku's other friends and comrades: Tenshinhan, Chaozu, Yamucha, Pu-erh and Umigame. The old Muten Roshi and Oolong, however, got on his last nerve. They ought to at least try to show some restrain and have some respect while in front of company.

Piccolo shook his head then. There were more important things to contemplate. When he gazed over at his beloved, he felt a warmth in his chest that could not be extinguished. Gohan's smile could warm him better than any fire. This did not escape the other faces at the table. And Piccolo was entirely unready when Gohan suddenly stole his lips with his own. He figured it would be a better than just announcing it; they would all find out eventually anyway.

Eyes all around the table widened. Vegeta was the first to bust out laughing. He would stash the Namek's expression away for future enjoyment. Bulma began fanning herself, her cheeks turning bright rose. Chi-Chi sighed to herself and rolled her eyes. Both chibis giggled to themselves and began whispering to each other. Yamucha was probably the only senshi that looked relieved. He wasn't sure if he should announce that he and Pu-erh had become a lot more than just friends and comrades. Perhaps it wasn't such a bad thing after all.

After all surprises had finally been let out of the bag, the party picked up the pace again. Games were played, prizes were won, karaoke and the whole bit done. As the day went on, the chibis opened up their presents happily; thanking everyone before shoving chocolate cake into each other's faces. After a bit more partying, day turned into night; most saying their farewells and returning to their homes, the Sons and Piccolo remaining longer than the rest.

Bulma could see that something was bothering Gohan and went over to talk to him. She had already tried to speak with Chi-Chi but without much luck. Luckily, Vegeta and Piccolo were keeping the birthday boys occupied; trying to burn off some of the sugar they'd consumed with some sparring so they could eventually get them ready for bed.

"What's on your mind Kiddo?" began Bulma.

"Huh? Oh, a lot of things, I suppose."

"You know, if you need anything I'm here for you, right?"

"Yes, I know Bulma and I am grateful. . . Actually, do you mind allowing Kaasan and Goten to stay the weekend at Capsule Corp?"

"That's not a problem. Is that all?" Bulma asked a little worried.

"Yeah, I just need to know they have somewhere safe and pleasant to be for a while."

"Are you leaving?"

"No . . ."

"Oh, I get it, you and Picco—"

"Shh. I just need the time," answered Gohan, trying not to turn beet red.

"Understandable Kiddo. I think Goten would live here if he could anyway. Also, I'll see if I can't get your mother to open up. It's not healthy to hold everything in."

"Yes. Thank you Bulma-san."

"Are you sure there's nothing else, Gohan?"

There were certain things he did not wish nor think appropriate to speak with Bulma about, but since she wouldn't let up, he gave an excuse.

"Well, I am going to enter the upcoming Tenkaichi Budoukai. I would appreciate a durable disguise that would cover most of my body, including my head and face, but it can't have a helmet. Certain headgear is against the rules. I just don't want anyone to recognize me from the Cell Games; whether or not I transform. And could you please make it all in black. That would be a great help if you could," finished Gohan, hoping she would let up. He had actually hoped Piccolo could make him something, but it would have to do.

"Oh! I have just the thing! If you don't mind staying longer, I can have it ready tonight."

"That's fine. Thank you Bulma-san."

"Just call me Bulma, Dear. We're all friends," she said jumping up with a smile and moving inside to begin her work.

Gohan sat for a moment at the table; his chin held in his fist. He still could not shake the feeling that something just wasn't quite right. But before he could get into deep thought, a painfully familiar voice caught his attention.

_Hi Son! I'm glad to hear you're entering the tournament. Guess what? I get one day to return to Earth, and thought that that would be the perfect day. What do you think?_

Gohan felt a thick lump begin to develop in his throat. Everything was just so simple to his father, wasn't it?! After leaving them for so long, of course he would pick the day there was a tournament as his one and _only_ day. Did he even care what they had been celebrating that day? Just how much and when did he tune in to them? How dare he?!

Gohan's barrage of thoughts came to a halt as he felt the gentle touch of his mate's hand on his shoulder; his rock and clarity in his most chaotic storms.

"Everything alright Gohan?" asked Piccolo a bit worried at his change in demeanor.

"Everything is fine Pic. Tousan was just informing me that he gets one day to return to Earth and he hopes to use it the day of the tournament," answered Gohan, striving to keep his hurt and bitter emotion out of his voice. Piccolo caught on and moved to finish the conversation with Goku.

"How have you been Son?" inquired Piccolo.

_I have bee_n_ just as good as a dead man can hope to be. _Goku tried to joke.

"That's good to hear Son. We'll see you the day of the tournament," Piccolo attempted to end their conversation swiftly. He could feel much negativity bubbling within Gohan. His only solace was that Chi-Chi had already gone inside by then. He would not have liked how that might have gone.

_Have I said something wrong? Are you alright Gohan?_

"I am fine Father. It is just late, and I am tired."

_Okay. I'm really happy I get to see you all again. I can't wait! Bye-bye!_

Vegeta had been listening to most of the conversation after sending the brats in to take their bath; his arms folded, standing against the building in his signature pose. So, Kakarotto was entering. Then it was a must that he did so as well. He _would defeat him. Nothing_ would stop him that time. He smirked before going inside. There was a little something to look forward to.

"Alright Gohan, what's wrong?" asked Piccolo sternly.

"Everything is just so simple to him. . . It's just . . . After all this time, it seems the only reason he even thought to come back was for a bloody tournament! Forgive me Pic. I just hate that about him. Couldn't he have been just a little less oblivious . . . insensitive, just once?"

"Your father has been the same all the time I've known him. He doesn't try to be thoughtless; certain things just don't occur to him."

"I know; it's why I can't hate him. But I swear, knowing so doesn't make it hurt any less."

Piccolo embraced Gohan then. He still wasn't quite used to affection but knew it was warranted at that time. Gohan sighed deeply into his gi before tugging on and bringing him closer. For an amount of time uncounted they just held one another under the stars. There was a serene quiet since they were the last ones outside. When Gohan finally locked his lips with his own, Piccolo knew there was nowhere else he would rather be. Storm or clear, they belonged together. He knew in his heart there was nothing Gohan couldn't do, and by his side he felt stronger than ever before.

"Aaawww." Bulma just had to ruin the moment, huh? Gohan and Piccolo swiftly pulled away from each other. "Oh, don't stop on my account," quipped Bulma, wearing a huge devilish grin. They both groaned but said nothing.

"Well, here is what I've come up with," she said holding out a strange watch. Gohan gazed at her curiously. "Put it on silly. I made it so you can easily equip or remove it at the touch of a button. Pretty genius, if I might say so myself."

After pushing a button, Gohan could be seen clothed in a flexible, skin-tight black suit similar to that which was part of saiyajin armor. Atop it was a black sleeveless tunic secured at the waist with a black belt with gold buckle. The turban was also black as he had requested and had a loose piece that could be adjusted to cover his face as he saw fit. It came complete with black goggles to hide his eyes but still allow him sight, and black gold-rimmed gloves and boots.

Piccolo didn't know what to make of it—it was so _dark_— so decided to remain silent. Bulma beamed with pride. Gohan peered at himself through a reflection in a window. He smiled. It wasn't exactly what he had had in mind, but he liked it.

"Thank you Bulma."

"No problem Kiddo."

After wishing everyone a goodnight, Gohan and Piccolo took off for their home. They had much to do; at their leisure and otherwise.

**TBC . . .**


End file.
